Terror By Night
by civateteo
Summary: Vampires at Hogwarts, Defense Against Dark Arts lessons, what more could Harry Potter ask for?
1. Prologue

Terror by Night  
  
Rising from the unhallowed grave,  
See the mists that float and wreathe  
Into shapes that seem like men,  
Seem to live and seem to breathe.  
From the coffin filled with blood,  
Where the ghastly body lies  
Underneath the sodden earth,  
With rosy cheeks and opened eyes,  
With bloodied lips and hands, with feet  
That walk their silent ways by night,  
Seeking a victim young and fair  
Before the dawn puts them to flight.  
  
They sink again into the tomb,  
A wreath of mist around the stone,  
Smell of the rotting charnel house  
That hovers when the mist has gone.  
These are the Un-Dead, known of old,  
Whispered with dread, with muttered prayer;  
The vampire-kind who live on blood  
Sucked from the sleeping everywhere.  
  
As smoke curls through the window cracks,  
As mist blows underneath the door,  
The vampire slides into the house  
Through broken roof, through gaping floor,  
And silently seeks out the room,  
Seeks out the sleeper in his bed,  
And leaves again, swollen with blood,  
But leaves the sleeper cold and dead.  
  
Seek out the unholy grave and drive  
A stake into the fiendish heart!  
Take holy water, sprinkle it  
And charge the hideous thing depart!  
Hang garlic then around the door,  
A crucifix within the room,  
And so the house will ever be  
Safe from the vampire and its doom.  
--Anon  
  
  
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing, nor would I wish to (hah, yeah right) ... ahem. 


	2. The Beginning of the End

[A/N: I know the first chapter didn't really sound Harry Potter-ish, but I hope this just clarifies it a bit. The poem was called 'Terror By Night,' and I only wanted to put it up, since this fic's named after it... :-)]  
  
  
Chapter 1 The Beginning of the End  
  
  
¡§I wonder who the new one is,¡¨ Ron Weasley said absently as he watched the countryside slide past his eyes. He could just see his red hair and freckles in the window, past the green trees and fields.  
  
¡§Who?¡¨ Harry Potter asked just as absently. He was shifting through his trunk, looking for his wand.  
  
¡§The new Gryffindor Seeker. Of -course- the Defense Against Dark Arts professor, numbskull.¡¨ Ron rolled his eyes. ¡§Quidditch players.¡¨  
  
¡§I can¡¦t believe you two are talking about professors and - and Quidditch when you could be studying for the N.E.W.T.¡¦s, or for your Apparating licenses, not to mention your exams. Haven¡¦t you learnt anything? Don¡¦t leave anything to the last minute!¡¨ Herminone Granger frowned at the two boys from over her book.  
  
The Boy Who Lived and his ever-faithful sidekick Weasley and their know-it-all companion Hermione Granger were back on the Hogwarts Express, speeding their way back to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for another promisingly exciting year. If Hermione and the teachers didn¡¦t bury them with schoolwork.  
  
This was their Seventh and final year at Hogwarts, and everyone had nostalgic feelings about this. After all, they had quite a few adventures.  
  
It all started and will eventually end with Voldemort (a.k.a. You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, the Dark Lord, and millions of excuses to not say his name). Once a smart, handsome boy learning magic along with hundreds of witches and wizards at Hogwarts, he was now unrecognizable to those who knew him years ago. Having undergone many transformations, he was now the most feared wizard in the concealed wizarding community.  
  
Harry Potter was the only one who had faced him countless of times, and had emerged every time alive, more confident and even more loved by his fellow magical folks.  
  
On Halloween night around seventeen years ago, Voldemort appeared in Godric¡¦s Hollow, and murdered on of his nemesis, James Potter, then his wife Lily Potter, before turning on our young hero. And blasting himself into the dark recess of an Albanian forest, bidding his time before he would strike once more.  
  
Eleven years later, he indeed struck out again at the child who had been his downfall. In his first year at Hogwarts, Harry stopped Voldemort from gaining immortality, giving him more time to breathe, but luck was not in favor of giving him rest. He faced the legendary monster of Slytherin, commanded by the memory of Voldemort, clever Tom Marvelo Riddle through a young girl. Fortunately, young Harry defeated his enemy once more.  
  
Harry¡¦s third year was a nerve-wracking one, with dementors, werewolves and the teachers breathing down his neck to protect him from his godfather, Sirius Black. When the Triwizard competition rolled around, Harry had patched things up with his godfather and was ready for another hectic year. Being the youngest contender for the Triwizard Cup was no easy feat, but the Boy Who Lived did win - along with Cedric Diggory, tragically - and not only witnessed Voldemort¡¦s rebirth, but dueled with him and survived.  
  
Things seemed to go smoothly the next year, but the Hogwarts Express was derailed by a series of horrible spells, sending five souls to the afterlife, three of them just graduated the day before. The next year started off with a bang - the dementors had abandoned Azkaban, the wizarding prison, and were reported appearing at various Muggle dwellings and terrorizing Muggles.  
  
Hopefully, nothing would happen this year.  
  
Harry Potter was hoping against hope, but it was a nice thought anyway. He had other worries at the moment: a lecturing Hermione Granger.  
  
¡§Oh, give it a rest, Hermione. Let us rest until at least Christmas Break before you give us our studying schedules.¡¨ Ron glared at his busy-haired friend before adding, ¡§Which we -don¡¦t- need. We can find our way through our notes, thank you very much.¡¨  
  
Hermione opened her mouth- to tell him off about his poor O.W.L.¡¦s probably - but Harry intervened before a huge row could rift a distance between his two hot-tempered friends.  
  
¡§What happened to Professor Marsh?¡¨ Harry asked quickly. There wasn¡¦t an answer right away, but Hermione¡¦s expression softened as she turned to Harry, ready to inform him about their latest Defense Against Dark Arts teacher.  
  
¡§She left, because she had a position in Switzerland.¡¨  
  
Harry nodded, trying to look interested. ¡§Then how about Professor Hornby?¡¨  
  
Hermione allowed herself to smile. ¡§She couldn¡¦t stand Moaning Myrtle.¡¨  
  
Ron also chuckled. ¡§Wasn¡¦t hard to guess -that,- but imagine having Myrtle floating through you every time you started to teach about haunted houses.¡¨  
  
Hermione giggled, something her two best friends hadn¡¦t heard in a while. ¡§I heard her complaining to Professor McGonagall once about how cold she was when she went to the bathroom, or when she was eating, sleeping, walking¡K Myrtle surely drove her crazy that year.¡¨  
  
They all laughed. The door opened behind Ron, and his younger sister walked through the door, trailed by Neville Longbottom, a forgetful boy with a round face with a great fear of Snape.  
  
Ginny Weasley was a slim sixteen-year-old, with the trademark Weasley freckles and red hair. She sat beside Hermione, avoiding Harry¡¦s eye. She had long since gotten over the girlish crush on the Boy Who Lived, but was still shy around him.  
  
¡§Ginny! Neville! Brilliant. We can play Exploding Snaps with two decks.¡¨ Ron produced two packs of cards from his sister¡¦s ear.  
  
She rolled her eyes. ¡§Ever since he saw that Muggle television show about some kind of magic show,¡¨ she told Hermione, ¡§he¡¦s been hiding Knuts and keys in his sleeves just to perform ¡¥magic¡¦ without a wand.¡¨  
  
¡§Aww, Gin, look!¡¨ he picked up Harry¡¦s hat, and showed it to the compartment¡¦s occupants. ¡§A seemingly empty hat, no?¡¨ Harry and Hermione had seen this trick performed by Muggles (more skilled than Ron, to tell the truth) to expect anything amazing, and Ginny had helped Ron sew in pockets up his robe sleeves, so she wasn¡¦t surprised at anything.  
  
Neville, however, was hanging onto the edge of the seat, waiting to see more. He did indeed. ¡§See, Neville, nothing in this hat. Feel inside.¡¨ Neville put his hand in Harry¡¦s hat and it did indeed come out empty. ¡§All right, let me say the magic word, **Ada Kadada!**¡¨ he shouted grandly.  
  
Hermione and Harry shook their heads at the incorrect words, but didn¡¦t spoil Ron¡¦s moment.  
  
Ron reached into the hat, and pulled out a ruffled Pigwidgeon. Neville¡¦s eyes were wide and surprised.  
  
¡§Oh, wow, Ron, you did magic without a wand!¡¨ Ron grinned and bowed deeply.  
  
¡§Thank you, Neville. If you¡¦re a good boy, I might even show you how I do it.¡¨ He reached over and pulled a Muggle banknote from Neville¡¦s ear.  
  
¡§Don¡¦t listen to him, Neville. It¡¦s not magic. He only puts things in his sleeves, and pulls them out,¡¨ Hermione told him. She glanced at Ron dismissively, and he sneered back, but they all settled down for a quick game of Exploding Snaps before schoolwork pushed ¡¥fun¡¦ out of their vocabulary.  
  
*  
  
Arachne Drakul stood silently outside the Headmaster¡¦s office entrance, holding a suitcase and a backpack. She could hear the old man¡¦s voice arguing with another man. Actually, she could only hear the Headmaster¡¦s low rumble and the man¡¦s words.  
  
¡§First a Werewolf, then -this!- Albus, have you gone mad? It¡¦ll eat the students, and it¡¦s a wonder why they haven¡¦t joined Voldemort already.¡¨  
  
There was a rumbling reply, but the man didn¡¦t reply. Instead, the gargoyle in front of Arachne Drakul sprang opened after a few moments, and a man stepped through.  
  
He was a tall, thin man with sallow skin. He hadn¡¦t noticed Arachne yet, and she had even more time to study this disagreeable man. His hair was black and shiny due to the gathered grease. It was about shoulder length, and slicked back out of his way with something that probably contributed to the greasy look. He had a hooked nose, which he looked down it to see anything.  
  
The man didn¡¦t see her until he had almost run her over. Looking startled, he looked her up and down suspiciously, but regained his composure.  
  
¡§Good evening,¡¨ he greeted formally. ¡§The Headmaster wishes to see you.¡¨  
  
She nodded, and started towards the opening to the Headmaster¡¦s office.  
  
*  
  
Severus Snape followed the silent figure walking to Dumbledore¡¦s office. Her long black hair was pulled up into a ponytail, which shone blue in the dim light. Her figure was hard to tell, due to the long black cloak she was wearing, but he guessed it was slim, if her face was any clue.  
  
He couldn¡¦t quite see her eyes, because they were hidden behind dark, reflecting shades. Just as well, he thought o himself sourly as he continued to follow her up the stairs. It was too bad her kind hadn¡¦t been wiped out long ago, but this should be an interesting year. After all, Potter and all the nitwits in his year were gong to graduate. That should be something to go by.  
  
They had reached the doorway to Dumbledore¡¦s office at last, and the man they were waiting to see opened it. Dumbledore smiled broadly and moved aside to let them in. The woman (or what resembled a woman) nodded silently, and entered the office. She set down her bags in front of Dumbledore¡¦s desk, and waited. Dumbledore smiled behind his long silver beard.  
  
Severus Snape stood to one side, and took a good look at the woman¡¦s face. It was deathly pale, contrasting to her blood-red lips and to the blackness of her glasses, hair and cloak.  
  
Looking as hard as he could, Severus could not find a flaw in her delicate face. The skin was smoother than marble, with not a dent nor scar marring her features. She looked as if she had been carved from paper-white marble. As ageless and dangerous as the sea. But in truth, she looked young... very young indeed. Severus shuddered at the thought of her being Changed at such a young age.  
  
With high cheekbones and small enough nose, she was a breath short of gorgeous, but there was nothing she had that he could ever want. The mere presence of her made him want to run in the other direction, but he was rooted to the spot by fear, longing, obligation and curiosity.  
  
¡§Arachne! I hope you¡¦ve had a good trip up?¡¨ Dumbledore was once again seated behind his desk, watching her over his half-moon glasses.  
  
Arachne. What a revolting name, thought Severus nastily. As if what she was wasn¡¦t bad enough.  
  
The woman turned towards Severus and fixed her stare on him. He froze, remembering her kind¡¦s vast power. Even through the glasses, he could feel the heat of her gaze, and he was suddenly grateful for the lens that separated their eyes. She turned back to Dumbledore, quickly releasing Severus¡¦ mind from hers.  
  
¡§The trip was wonderful, Headmaster,¡¨ she said in a low, melodious voice. It was certainly hypnotizing, and very soothing. There was a slight accent, which Severus couldn't quite make out.  
  
¡§Good, good. Let me introduce you to your new colleague, Professor Severus Snape. Severus, this is an old friend of mine, Arachne Drakul. She was kind enough to help us by taking the Defense Against Dark Arts position.¡¨ Dumbledore smiled pleasantly, and watched the two greet each other cordially.  
  
¡§Severus is our Potions Master, Arachne. He¡¦s also the Head of Slytherin, one of our four houses. I¡¦m hoping he¡¦ll show you around the school, and get you acquainted to the rest of the staff.¡¨  
  
Severus nodded silently, carefully keeping his mind blank, so the creature would not know what he was thinking.  
  
*  
  
Harry sighed happily upon seeing the castle so near. He was definitely looking forward to some food. His stomach growled confirmation. Ron was chattering happily away with Neville about Quidditch. Hermione was still flipping through her spellbooks enthusiastically. Harry only sat and watched his friends and thought about the upcoming feast.  
  
When their horseless carriage arrived at the castle, they joined the huge crowd fighting to get into the castle.  
  
They all elbowed their way through the crowd, getting to their table and sitting down. Hermione had finally put down her book, and was studying the Head Table.  
  
¡§Well, the rest of the professors are here and accounted for... Hagrid¡¦s with the First Years, then Professor McGonagall with them. But Snape and the Dark Arts teacher aren¡¦t there.¡¨  
  
¡§Don¡¦t they tell the Head Girl who it is?¡¨ asked Ron.  
  
Hermione shook her head. ¡§We need to wait, just like you. At least, that¡¦s what I believe. Or maybe they didn¡¦t have enough time to inform us... Oh! There¡¦s Snape, and...¡¨  
  
¡§Oh, will you look at that!¡¨ Ron craned his neck to see the new Defense Against Dark Arts teacher as she walked in. ¡§Oh, they do hire the right ones, eh, Harry?¡¨ He elbowed Harry, who was staring at her with interest.  
  
Hermione humphed. ¡§She looks awfully young, doesn¡¦t she?¡¨  
  
¡§The younger the better! How old do you think she is?¡¨ Ron breathed. Harry shrugged, and continued to watch the new professor settle down beside an exceptionally mad Snape.  
  
She was (as Ron said) very young - she looked as if she had just graduated - and she was beautiful, as most of the male students would say, if asked. There were a few curious things about her... the dark glasses she wore, and the paleness in her face. It reminded them of Snape¡¦s paleness curiously, but it wasn¡¦t sallow. It was simply pale, and it only enhanced her beauty.  
  
¡§Snape doesn¡¦t seem so happy,¡¨ Harry commented after a moment.  
  
¡§I would be, if I were in his place,¡¨ Ron looked wistful as he stared up at her. They didn¡¦t even notice Seamus Finnagin and Dean Thomas coming towards them.  
  
¡§Oh, will you look at that,¡¨ Seamus whistled.  
  
¡§Crikey, she¡¦s a -¡§ Dean started to add to Seamus¡¦ commentary, but Hermione cut him off.  
  
¡§A what?¡¨ She asked sharply.  
  
¡§Erm, a - a good teacher?¡¨ Dean improvised quickly, so the Head Girl wouldn¡¦t take off his head.  
  
Hermione glared at him, but let the matter drop. ¡§I -hope- she¡¦s a good teacher. Well, she hardly looks capable of First Year Hufflepuffs,¡¨ Hermione said loftily. ¡§I wonder how the Slytherin Seventh Years will torment her?¡¨ she added maliciously.  
  
¡§Not to mention you, huh?¡¨ Ron glanced at Hermione. ¡§Oh, come off it. I thought you Head Girls were supposed to support the teachers, eh?¡¨  
  
Hermione blushed slightly at the rebuke, and was silent. Harry smiled sympathetically at her, and tried to steer the subject away from the new teacher.  
  
¡§Who¡¦s the Head Boy?¡¨ he asked.  
  
¡§Terry Boot. He¡¦s Ravenclaw.¡¨ Hermione pointed out the boy sitting at one end of the Ravenclaw table. He had blonde hair, and was looking extremely pompous as he talked to the girl next to him.  
  
¡§Bloody hell, he looks like Percy.¡¨ Ron made a face.  
  
¡§He is a -very- good student,¡¨ Hermione told him sniffily. Ron didn¡¦t say anything to that, because Hagrid trooped in with the First Years and Professor McGonagall, a strict-looking teacher, carrying a ragged hat on the stool. The First Years lined up behind the hat, and watched it apprehensively.  
  
The rest of the school also quieted, waiting for it to do something. What, the First Years didn¡¦t know and was anxious to find out.  
  
The rip at the brim of the hat opened and to much of the young students¡¦ surprise, it broke out into song.  
  
I¡¦m quite renown as a certain Hat  
That can sort students to their places,  
I¡¦ve had that job for quite a while,  
That at one point I was covered in laces.  
Of course, I belonged to Gryffindor,  
A brave soul to say the least  
He cared for me and took pride in me  
And set me to this feat.  
On a brighter note, Ravenclaw  
Was a fine and smart young lady  
And when she got to seventy,  
She wasn¡¦t a least bit shady.  
A cunning man by Slytherin  
Was different from the rest,  
He always did get his way,  
Until one day he built a room with a test.  
A sweeter girl was never known  
That a lady named Hufflepuff  
When everyone got into fights,  
She was calm and never in a huff.  
So try me on, dear friend in need,  
And see which house you belong in.  
Because my friends, I shall tell you  
Where you can begin.  
For each House has its story,  
Each one rich and unique,  
No matter which house you are in,  
You shall have fun and learn, a guarantee!  
Whether brave or smart,  
Shrewd or sweet,  
Tall or short, big or small,  
You shall be complete,  
Because at Hogwarts School,  
We all learn and learn alike!  
  
  
The whole Hall burst out in applause and cheers as it did every year when the Sorting Hat finished its song. When the clamor died down, Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a scroll of parchment.  
  
¡§When I call your name, please step forward and try on the hat, then proceed to your new House.  
  
The First Years were looking more nervous than ever, but one by one, they were sorted.  
  
¡§Barsimmon, Zachary!¡¨  
  
¡§GRYFFINDOR!¡¨  
  
The Gryffindors welcomed the slightly wobbly First years, their first one of the year. When Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington tried to shake his hand, Zachary got a nasty shock, but it got worse when the resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower¡¦s head nearly fell off, hanging off a tendril of ghostly flesh. Nearly Headless Nick apologized profusely, as the Sorting went on.  
  
¡§Ilsonot, Kevin!¡¨  
  
¡§HUFFLEPUFF!¡¨  
  
Hermione had moved down the table, trying to comfort Zachary Barsimmon, who looked as Petrified as she did when she met the basilisk in her second year.  
  
¡§Orloff, Cassandra!¡¨  
  
¡¥RAVENCLAW!¡¨  
  
The Head Boy himself and welcomed the young witch to the (as Ron called it when Ravenclaw was ahead of Gryffindor with points) Ignoramus Lane.  
  
Harry was praying avidly that the last one would bring a stop to Dumbledore¡¦s train of thought, leaving them ample time to fill their bellies.  
  
¡§Zaffunda, Mesopotamia!¡¨  
  
¡§SLYTHEIRN!¡¨  
  
Harry¡¦s prayer was answered. Dumbledore stood, smiled and said in his deep voice, ¡§Don¡¦t let the food go to waste.¡¨  
  
Harry let out a great yell, and started filling his plate as soon as the House Elves sent the food up.  
  
Hermione had joined them again, and also started to fill her plate. She narrowly missed Ron's fork, when it flew out of his hand in excitement. "Honestly, Ron. You're acting like you haven't eaten in ages."  
  
"I haven't! -Four- hours, can you believe it? And it was only a box of Chocolate Frogs! Hey, Harry, look, chicken pie!" Ron shoveled his mashed potatoes into his mouth, making room for the pie.  
  
Harry watched Hermione pull a batch of asparagus onto her plate. He was about to say something about the amount of greens Hermione was eating, but Ron elbowed him and pointed at the Head Table with his fork.  
  
"Look, she's not eating."  
  
Harry and Hermione looked up, and sure enough, the woman had nothing on her plate yet, nor was she reaching for anything. She only passed the pie to Snape when he said something to her. "Well, she's certainly prissy about herself," Hermione said snippily.  
  
"I don't know why - she -looks- thin enough," Ron said through a piece of chicken breast. She indeed looked thin enough. It was apparent, even through her black robes. Slender, but not gaunt.  
  
"Well, looks can be deceiving," Hermione drank from her goblet. "Perhaps she has a different time schedule, and she eats later, or has eaten before." She looked at her new Defense Against Dark Arts teacher. "Have you ever seen a face like that? She looks like a vulture."  
  
"Oh, yes, a very, very se-" Ron started to say in a dreamy voice, but Hermione's look stopped him. "Er, I mean, a very, very er, se - silent person." His ears went red.  
  
Harry, Seamus and Dean snorted at Ron's catch. Hermione humphed again. She caught Harry's grin. As if hearing his though, she looked sulky.  
  
"I am -not- jealous."  
  
*  
  
Arachne sat silently, watching everyone eat to his or her hearts' content. She didn't touch a morsel of food, nor a drop of the drink, as was the custom of her people.  
  
She was sitting beside Professor Vector, an enthusiastic eater, who asked her regularly to pass the plate of whichever dish was by her side. The rest of the teachers knew what she was, and thankfully refrained from asking her to join in, but she was feeling much like a waitress, handing plates of food over to either Vector or Snape. It was irking her, but she did comply with their requests.  
  
Conversations were flowing all around her, among the teacher. Professor Vector tried several times to make conversation, but gave up, since the woman only replied in monosyllabic words.  
  
Thankfully, Snape didn't try to talk to her, but his thoughts were probably more disturbing than his words. Arachne refrained from retorting to his thoughts. After all, they were supposed to be private, and she definitely needed to refrain from using people's thoughts against them. If practice did not perfect skills, then she probably wouldn't know what would.  
  
It took nearly three hours before the last remnants of the feast were cleared from the golden plates. By then, Arachne was thoroughly bored and tried of listening to the static in her head from interior conversations, and her ears were ringing from the exterior conversations. The glasses were irritating her, and the sounds of humans eating happily were somewhat sickening her. Surely, surely such torture would not continue? She had to be here for this feast, or else she would have long since run off.  
  
Extremely relieved (not to mention grateful), Dumbledore stood, and a hush fell over the gathered students. Evidently, this headmaster was respected from all corners of the Great Hall.  
  
"Good evening, and welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Now, before I send you off into your warm beds to float around in your pleasant dreams, I do have a few obligatory words I always seem to say during the Start-of-Term-Feast." Dumbledore paused for a moment before continuing.  
  
"First, I must remind the older students about the Forbidden Forest, and why exactly it is forbidden." He gave the older students a stern look. "And, First Years, also note that Hogsmeade is out-of-bounds for those under Third-Year.  
  
"Mr. Filch has also asked me to remind you about eating sweets in classrooms and... leaving them there, and about the horrible stench the Dungbombs create, especially set in the hallways." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and he cleared his throat.  
  
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested should see their House Captains.  
  
"And finally, I am pleased to welcome a new teacher into our ranks - Professor Drakul. She will be our Defense Against Dark Arts teacher."  
  
There was applause, especially from the male portion of the student body. When it died down, Dumbledore bade them all good night, and the students dispersed. The teachers started to leave the Hall too, but Dumbledore stopped Arachne and Severus.  
  
"Ah, Arachne, Severus, I see you two have gotten along!" If Dumbledore saw Severus' thin, grimacing smile, he didn't comment on it. "Well, I'm sure you've showed Arachne to her rooms, and to the classroom." Severus nodded silently. "Severus, there is something else.  
  
"Arachne's condition may not allow her to teach on an extremely... sunny day. In that case, I must ask a favor of you, for you to switch your lesson with her." Severus nodded again. Dumbledore smiled again, and bid them goodnight, and left the two to face each other.  
  
"I'm not going to pretend to like you and your kind," Snape said, as soon as Dumbledore was out of earshot.  
  
Arachne nodded. "I understand," she said in her low, melodious voice. It was indeed intoxicating. "I appreciate what you're doing," she added.  
  
He glared. "I'm not doing -you- a favor. I'm only doing Dumbledore a favor."  
  
Arachne was taken aback by the venom in his voice, but expected as much, after seeing his initial reaction. She didn't blame people like him. They didn't understand, and didn't want to. She had long since stopped expecting them to empathize with her situation.  
  
"Well, thank you, anyway." She bowed her head, and left the Great Hall.  
  
*  
  
Severus Snape watched her go, feeling rather lightheaded, despite his harsh words. Her voice was indeed seductive... her whole -person- spelled seduction. The way she talked, low and slowly, how she held herself, and how she walked.  
  
As Severus watched her, he realized that if he wasn't watching her, he would not have heard her walk away. Knowing this suddenly made him uneasy. God knew what she was going to do with her power.  
  
Has she lured men away, just to kill them under the cover of darkness? Had she pulled children from their families? What was Dumbledore thinking in hiring her?  
  
He thought back to what Dumbledore had said about her. She was very capable of avoiding the Hunters and Aurors, along with normal beings. He was also reminded at how she smeared some kind of paste onto her abnormally white skin to make it look human. How disgusting.  
  
Potter. He was the cause of this. First, Quirrell and his betrayal. It led to Lockhart and his mask of fame and glory. Lupin was definitely better than -her.- Both were monsters no one needed. Mad-Eye Moody was another betrayer. Dumbledore definitely needed to stop trusting those kinds of people.  
  
Scowling, he also exited the Great Hall after Drakul.  
  
He found her halfway to the Astronomy Tower, looking utterly lost. She turned sharply upon hearing his footsteps, though he was further away. -Much- further. He stood frozen, watching her glide over to where he was standing.  
  
"I should say you look rather... lost," Severus said silkily. Her face was in the shadows of the hall, and she looked nearly human. She glided closer still.  
  
"I believe so," she told him neutrally. She stepped forward, and Severus was lost in two twin pools of violet smoke, unable to be found.  
  
'Severus Snape, you have no reason to fear.' An indescribable voice filled his whole being. He was willing to give himself to it - NO! It was going to destroy him, and it would take advantage of him.  
  
Severus struggled with all his might, and broke through. he was triumphant, and was exhilarated, until he realized her eyes were covered with the dark glasses.  
  
So the creature had let him go. His will was not stronger than hers was after all. ¡§What do you think you¡¦re doing?¡¨ he hissed angrily.  
  
¡§I¡¦m sorry,¡¨ she whispered.  
  
Severus considered killing her for a moment before she brushed past him, but then all the thoughts were pushed away. Dumbledore had said something about that. She was nearly impossible to kill. Neither stake nor cross would divert her. Not even the sun was very effective in killing her. Damn that creature.  
  
*  
  
Arachne had succeeded in getting herself thoroughly lost. Then Severus Snape had showed up... such a terrible mistake. It was now near four o¡¦clock. Five hours before the school would come alive with students, teachers and ghosts. Sighing, Arachne popped a blood-flavored lollipop into her mouth, and proceeded to walk the dark halls again. Tomorrow night, she would try the grounds, and the forest. She ought to familiarize herself with Hogwarts. After all, this would be her home for the next ten months.  
  
She could feel the magic pressing against her, strong and pulsing like a music beat too loud to hear, but the feeling was delicious. Arachne couldn¡¦t decide if the magic was like music. It definitely reminded her of the days when magic still flowed in her veins, and she had been able to use it. Now, all she had were memories of her magic, and the borrowed pleasures of watching wizards and witches perform an age-old right, passed on and on over the generations, sometimes skipping generations, sometimes appearing in new threads.  
  
Arachne frequently wondered what she had done to receive this kind of punishment. She longed to feel the warmness of magic coursing through her. All she felt now was the hard, cold emptiness.  
  
Sighing, she started towards her room, to take a short nap before facing students. Today was a mix between Fourth-Years and Seventh-Years from all houses. Arachne felt she would need the rest.  
  
Children ¡V especially teenagers ¡V were not exactly her favorite people, although they were, a very long time ago. After all, she had grown up planning to marry and create a family of her own. Until the unexpected had happened. But there was no use in dwelling among such unpleasant thoughts. She was getting too old for this.  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: I own zilch, 'cept for some things... 


	3. Quidditch, and DADA

Chapter 2 - Quidditch, and DADA  
  
¡§Seventh Year schedules!¡¨ McGonagall counted four, and gave them to Hermione. She in turn handed Harry, Ron and Neville their personal timetables.  
  
¡§Oh, bloody hell!¡¨ Ron exclaimed, slumping down into his seat.  
  
¡§What¡¦s the matter?¡¨ Hermione asked calmly, spooning herself some porridge from the large bowl in front of her.  
  
¡§Double Potions first thing in the morning tomorrow,¡¨ Neville looked dejectedly at his own page. ¡§Is there any way we can make an excuse to skip Potions?¡¨  
  
¡§Neville, you can¡¦t make excuses for the whole year. I¡¦ll help you through what I can. Besides, you¡¦ve made it through so far. Ten more months, then you¡¦ll be free,¡¨ Hermione told him encouragingly.  
  
¡§But be sure you tell us where you¡¦re living, Longbottom. We wouldn¡¦t want to be around when you melt down the entire city.¡¨ A sneering voice came from behind them. Ron turned angrily, and saw Draco Malfoy. He was a nasty, sneering Slytherin that loved to torment the other house¡¦s students, Gryffindor especially.  
  
¡§I hope you¡¦ve had a good, hearty breakfast, Malfoy,¡¨ Ron said pleasantly. ¡§Because if I hear one more word out of your sodding mouth, it¡¦ll be too swollen to ¡V¡§ Ron didn¡¦t have a chance to finish his threat, because Snape had arrived. He placed a hand on Malfoy¡¦s shoulder and smiled nastily at Ron.  
  
¡§Weasley, are you fighting already? Since it¡¦s so early in the year, I shall give you a break, and take off only twent-¡§ Snape was interrupted just as Ron had. Professor Drakul arrived, looking paler than ever. Her eyes were covered with dark glasses as yesterday, and her robes were as black as her hair, very much like Snape¡¦s robes. Close up, she looked even younger than they had thought.  
  
¡§Good morning, Severus,¡¨ she greeted. To the students, her voice was rich and pleasant to hear, but Snape looked like he had been asked to marry Neville Longbottom. He stiffened visible, and his face had twisted into a grimace. He glared haughtily down at the newcomer. He didn¡¦t say anything, but abruptly left, leaving Draco Malfoy alone, without any fellow Slytherins (Crabbe and Goyle were already filling their stomachs with the good Hogwarts food). Drakul glanced at him, and he hurried away quickly.  
  
¡§Can we help you with something?¡¨ Hermione asked with polite stiffness.  
  
The professor nodded, still unsmiling. ¡§I need to see harry Potter, and the Head Girl.¡¨  
  
Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Why would she want to see them?  
  
¡§Er, I¡¦m Harry Potter and this,¡¨ he gestured to Hermione, ¡§is the Head Girl.¡¨  
  
¡§All right. I do not have much time, so I will be brief. Madam Hooch wishes to inform the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain about a slight change in referees. Apparently, she had to go to London to see her ailing mother, and shall not be able to see to the inter-house... competition.¡¨  
  
¡§Oh. But it will go on? Quidditch games, I mean?¡¨ Harry looked very relieved when Drakul nodded once. ¡§Good. Then... who¡¦s the referee?¡¨  
  
There was a slight pause, before she said briefly, ¡§I will be the referee.¡¨ Harry looked surprised, but it turned to relief, when he realized Snape wouldn¡¦t be refereeing the games.  
  
¡§Thank you, Harry Potter. I believe I shall see you later? And Miss...¡¨ the woman turned to Hermione, who gazed coolly at her.  
  
¡§Hermione Granger, Professor. I would be surprised you did not know.¡¨ Harry and Ron looked at each other in amazement. The only time she had been like this to a teacher was with Trelawney, the Divination teacher. Hermione had truly hated the woman.  
  
¡§Yes, Hermione Granger. I have a package I wish to deliver to...¡¨ Drakul rooted through her pockets, and pulled out a letter. She read off the envelope. ¡§...A Mr. Neville Longbottom. It¡¦s from his grandmother, I believe.¡¨  
  
¡§Well, then, why don't you give it to him? After all, I¡¦m not a bloody postal service.¡¨ Ron¡¦s mouth was hanging open. Was this the Hermione they knew? The one who would not talk back to a teacher if she were paid to?  
  
Fortunately, Drakul didn¡¦t seem to mind. ¡§Then will you please show me to Neville Longbottom, I believe this is urgent.¡¨  
  
¡§P-professor, I think I¡¦m the one you¡¦re looking for.¡¨ Neville stood, and nervously tried to step back, but his foot caught one of the table¡¦s legs. The forgetful, accident-prone teen went sprawling into the new teacher.  
  
With movements faster than Harry¡¦s sharp Seeker eyes could catch, Drakul righted the boy, and set him upright. ¡§Here is you¡¦re letter, Neville Longbottom. I shall bring your things to the classroom, and you can pick them up after the lesson. Have a good morning.¡¨ She bowed her head in greeting, and quickly exited the Great Hall, gracefully avoiding a crowd of Sixth-Years heading for breakfast. When they settled down to breakfast again, Ron turned to Hermione, his hands crossed over his chest.  
  
¡§What was -that- about, Head Girl?¡¨ he asked sternly. ¡§Did we just hear you... affront a teacher?¡¨  
  
Hermione snorted delicately. ¡§She is -not- a teacher. She can¡¦t even stand up to herself! Did you see how she just let me run her over like that?¡¨ Hermione smiled tightly. ¡§She won¡¦t last a day.¡¨  
  
¡§I wonder how good at Quidditch she is? Harry asked absently. Ron shrugged. ¡§It was amazing, how she just picked up Neville like that. He didn¡¦t even reach the ground. She probably played Seeker or Keeper.¡¨  
  
Neville smiled sheepishly. ¡§She¡¦s nice, though. Didn¡¦t even get angry. And my things. Not many teachers would do something like that.¡¨  
  
Hermione pursed her lips again. ¡§Imagine using -me- as a postal service. As if I didn¡¦t have enough to do.¡¨  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged looks. Both of them were thinking along the same lines. Why was Hermione acting like this?  
  
*  
  
Arachne was woken up by a loud knock at her door. She moaned lightly. Whatever it was about, it had better be good. Shuffling to the door, she met Albus Dumbledore. Smiling as always, he bid her a good morning before stepping into her room.  
  
¡§Good morning, Albus. Would you like some tea?¡¨ Arachne collapsed into a chair opposite to Dumbledore.  
  
¡§I didn¡¦t think you kept tea here.¡¨ Dumbledore looked faintly surprised.  
  
Arachne smiled. I don¡¦t. If you wanted some tea, I¡¦d have told you to get some yourself. After all, why would I keep tea here? I have no use for it, though it does smell good.¡¨  
  
Dumbledore¡¦s eyes twinkled merrily at her. ¡§Ah, the same Arachne. I don¡¦t think you¡¦ll ever change.¡¨ He sighed tiredly. ¡§Severus would certainly like to know you when you were... ah, human.¡¨  
  
Arachne shrugged. ¡§I don¡¦t think we can go back to that. People do seem to reveal themselves to you, don¡¦t thy? Telling you their deepest, darkest secrets?¡¨ she didn¡¦t wait for his answer, but plunged on. ¡§Severus Snape isn¡¦t very... friendly. I mean, I would not blame him, but it does get tiring. Stereotypical people aren¡¦t very nice. There was a time I remember, Albus, when I would not have let this go on. It was the darkest time I¡¦ve lived through.¡¨  
  
¡§I believe all of us have flaws. But the better we understand them, the less they become. You are a good example of this. Look at you now. Although, those glasses don¡¦t improve things the least bit.¡¨  
  
Arachne laughed bitterly. ¡§Then you have not seen Severus Snape this morning.¡¨ She told him what had happened between her and the Potions teacher. ¡§It was my fault, really. I didn¡¦t forget about my eyes. I wanted to convince him, but it didn¡¦t quite work. Now he acts as if I were a basilisk.  
  
Dumbledore patter her hand. ¡§I¡¦m sure everything will work. After all, you do have ten months before you can leave.¡¨  
  
Arachne raised an eyebrow. ¡§What if I want to leave before then? You can¡¦t stop me. Mad-Eye Moody could not, even in his youth.¡¨  
  
Dumbledore chuckled. ¡§Then I shall need yet another referee. My flying instructor has been called to London, due to a family member¡¦s illness. I need a referee for the Inter-House Quidditch Cup games, and a flying instructor. I have already appealed to Severus. He will be the flying instructor, and now you... Arachne, you have been around Quidditch from the start. I need a good referee. Especially with the team rivalries this year.¡¨  
  
Arachne nodded slowly. ¡§I think I might. After all, it has been a while since Quidditch. I might be able to stand a spot of time in the sun once in a while.¡¨  
  
Dumbledore smiled broadly. ¡§Excellent. And another thing, make sure you tell the Quidditch captains. You might want to start with Harry Potter, because in finding him, you will find the Head Girl. Ask her to deliver this and tell her that the package is in my office.¡¨ Dumbledore handed Arachne a letter, and stood. ¡§I¡¦ll see you later, then, my dear.¡¨  
  
Arachne nodded. ¡§Albus, I need the other Quidditch captains¡¦ names.¡¨  
  
¡§Ah, yes, I almost forgot... I did forget. You have Harry Potter for Gryffindor, Draco Malfoy for Slytherin, Morag MacDougal for Ravenclaw, and I believe Justin Finch-Fletchley for Hufflepuff. Have a nice day, Arachne.¡¨ Dumbledore left her alone, and closed the door softly behind him.  
  
Sighing heavily, she slowly made her way to the wardrobe, and looked inside. There wasn¡¦t much in it, only a few spare robes (black ¡V she would have no other color), and two cloaks. No hat for her, and it looked like hoes today. She¡¦d be tired today. There was no point in trying to pull a pair of heavy boots around the school. She dressed quickly. She needed to get to Harry Potter and the Head Girl, before the sun was out and about. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall provided no protection against the sun¡¦s sharp rays.  
  
Upon entering the Hall, she scanned others¡¦ minds lightly, and found them quickly. Severus Snape was there, in the middle of a conversation, but stopped, as soon as she had arrived. She greeted him cordially enough, but he took off, and she was left with the students.  
  
The Head Girl (Hermione Granger) seemed to be thinking along the lines as the Potions Master ¡V to make her life at Hogwarts as miserable as possible. It was apparent after a few moments of talking with her.  
  
Harry Potter was like any other teen. It was either sports or friends. Nothing mattered at the moment for him. The clumsy one... Neville Longbottom was sincere enough. He had no other intention but to pass Potions and graduate, leaving Snape behind as a distant memory.  
  
After speaking with Harry Potter, she began to feel the sun burning her. The strong rays were probably tanning her so she looked more human, but it was unpleasant just the same. And she still had the Head Girl to deal with. This was taking longer than she had anticipated. Then the girl gave her more problems. Thank goodness the Longbottom boy was to the point.  
  
As soon as she delivered her messages and letter, she was out of the Hall, and into the castle¡¦s dark corridors.  
  
Arachne pressed her hands to her cheeks, and felt the blood boiling within her. She longed to curl up in a dark corner and sleep, but instead, she skirted the bright windows of the hallway, and made her way to Dumbledore¡¦s office, and murmured the password and entered. Seeing the box at the bottom of the spiraling staircase, she took it, and left his office. She certainly needed to get to the classroom before students clogged the hallway, bathing in the warm, September sun.  
  
*  
  
Half of the class was chattering happily outside the closed door to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom when Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione arrived. Hermione kept glancing at her watch, then at the closed classroom door.  
  
Ron was observing her closely, and it finally dawned on him what she was doing.   
  
¡§Hermione, she¡¦s not going to be late,¡¨ he told her, exasperated, just as the bell rang, echoing through the school. She was going to say something to Ron, but the door to the classroom creaked open, by itself and students started to file in.  
  
When they settled themselves into their seats, Professor Drakul looked up from the register, and surveyed the class. They waited expectantly as she stood.  
  
¡§Good morning. As you might know, I am Professor Drakul, and I shall be teaching Defense Against Dark Arts. Before we start, I suppose this would be the time to answer a few questions about myself, since I expect you lot to be curious.¡¨  
  
Hermione¡¦s hand immediately flew up, nearly knocking Ron¡¦s hat off. Drakul nodded at her. ¡§Which school were you at?¡¨ she asked.  
  
Drakul shook her head. ¡§I¡¦m afraid I can¡¦t answer that, because I was tutored privately.¡¨  
  
Hermione didn¡¦t bother raising her hand again or giving her classmates a chance, but shot another question at her. ¡§How long have you been teaching?¡¨  
  
¡§This is my first year as a teacher,¡¨ Drakul answered without hesitation.  
  
¡§Have you any experience with the Dark Arts?¡¨ Other students¡¦ hands were beginning to fall.  
  
¡§My whole life has been dedicated to the Dark Arts.¡¨  
  
¡§Are you saying you are a Dark Witch?¡¨ Parvati and Lavender¡¦s gasps could be heard from across the room, but Drakul answered Hermione levelly.  
  
¡§No. However, I must say I was abnormally involved in it in my youth.¡¨  
  
Hermione was silent, and Drakul turned to other students. ¡§Yes, Dean Thomas?¡¨ Dean looked surprised at her knowing his name, but asked his question.  
  
¡§If you don¡¦t mind, Professor, how old are you?¡¨  
  
The teacher hesitated at this, but answered the boy¡¦s question. ¡§Eighteen, nineteen not soon enough.¡¨ There was a general exclamation, but it died down soon enough, as questions began in earnest.  
  
¡§Professor, why do you have glasses?¡¨  
  
¡§My eyes are extremely sensitive to the sun. In that case, Parvati, please shut the blinds.¡¨ Parvati complied, while Drakul answered Harry¡¦s question.  
  
¡§Do you play Quidditch?¡¨  
  
¡§Yes.¡¨  
  
¡§What position?¡¨  
  
¡§I have played all, except for Beater.¡¨ She nodded at Ron.  
  
¡§Where are you from, Professor?¡¨  
  
¡§Romania.¡¨  
  
¡§What is your best subject?¡¨  
  
¡§I don¡¦t have one.¡¨  
  
¡§Are you ever going to teach?¡¨ This last question was from Hermione, who was looking mutinous at the friendliness the class was displaying. ¡§After all, you -are- the teacher,¡¨ she added acidly. The class blanched at the fierceness in Hermione¡¦s voice. They were as shocked as Ron was when they heard her speak like that.  
  
Drakul only nodded once, and said faintly, ¡§Lessons. Yes.¡¨  
  
She paused for a moment as if collecting her thoughts. She perched on the edge of her desk, and absently picked up a Sickle before she began to speak.  
  
¡§Imagine you¡¦re in the deep, dark forests of France, and you have this nasty feeling. There¡¦s someone following you.¡¨ Drakul paused, rolling the coin between her fingers. ¡§You look around, and there is nothing there. Shrugging this off, you start to walk again.¡¨ The Sickle in her hand was slowly changing shape. Surely her long, thin fingers couldn¡¦t...  
  
¡§But then, something -leaps- at you.¡¨ The whole class jumped in their seats. They were so caught up in the story, so that story and reality had begun to blur. When Drakul didn¡¦t say anything, one of the students blurted out loudly into the silence.  
  
¡§What happened?¡¨  
  
¡§You don¡¦t know. And not a wand in your pocket nor anything.¡¨ Drakul got up, and started pacing along the desks. ¡§You realize it is the legendary **loup-garu,** and not even a silver Sickle on you.¡¨ The students were mesmerized by the shifting Sickle in her fingers, but were snapped back to reality by Hermione¡¦s sharp voice.  
  
¡§Werewolves aren¡¦t all dangerous, **Professor.**¡§  
  
Drakul stopped playing with the Sickle, and it dropped back into her palm. She closed her fist around the coin, all the while walking towards Hermione.  
  
¡§How about in their wolf form?¡¨ she asked softly.  
  
¡§There is a potion they can take. It¡¦s to prevent them from ¡V¡§  
  
¡§The potion does have a problem. Not everyone can brew it. There are wolves out there. Then there are werewolves. Part human, part man, and damned for all eternity.¡¨ Hermione looked very angry at the professor¡¦s comments, but didn¡¦t reply.  
  
¡§So... you are facing possibly one of the most dangerous Dark Creatures. You are doomed.¡¨ Drakul was still in front of Hermione, who looked positively murderous. Drakul opened her palm, and there was the coin ¡V or what -was- a coin ¡V crushed and molded into a round, metallic ball of silver. She let it drop onto Hermione¡¦s desk. Hermione stared at it.  
  
¡§Don¡¦t be caught unawares,¡¨ she whispered. She abruptly stepped away, and to the front of the room. She opened her arms.  
  
¡§Boys and girls, say good-bye to your sheltered lives, and step into the true Defense Against the Dark Arts.¡¨  
  
  
As the lesson progressed, the Seventh Years were getting increasingly annoyed at Hermione¡¦s continued interruptions and snide comments. But in-between those, they were enjoying the lesson Professor Drakul laid before them.  
  
¡§There are many ways you can avoid trouble, but there is always one thing that will save your life more than anything else. Any takers?¡¨  
  
¡§Wands?¡¨ Drakul shook her head.  
  
¡§Someone does a Disarming Charm. No, there¡¦s something simpler though less lethal... Seamus?¡¨  
  
¡§Run like hell.¡¨ There was general laughter.  
  
Drakul tsked. ¡§No one knows... then let me tell you. Be aware. Aware of your surroundings and aware of what your limitations are. Secondly, have a plan. Disaster strikes, and you will know what to do. Always be prepared.¡¨  
  
¡§But Professor, what if someone¡¦s hexing you?¡¨ Lavender Brown asked worriedly.  
  
¡§Another thing we will be working on this year will be building on immunity towards certain spells. I suppose the beginning of next year ¡V¡§  
  
¡§Is it even possible? Being able to deflect spells? I hope you¡¦re not bringing us to a dead end, professor.¡¨ Hermione interrupted yet again.  
  
¡§I assure you, it is possible. You all shall graduate, ready for the unexpected. Now there¡¦s another rule. Be ready for the unexpected. If something goes wrong, chances are, everything will.¡¨ Drakul dropped into her seat. ¡§Read chapters one to three in your books. Class dismissed.¡¨ Two seconds later, the bell rang. The Gryffindor Seventh Years started talking excitedly amongst themselves.  
  
¡§She didn¡¦t even get mad!¡¨  
  
¡§Did you see that Sickle...?¡¨  
  
¡§Neville Longbottom, I believe I have something of yours.¡¨ Drakul called out.  
  
Neville broke apart from the crowd, and stood before her. ¡§Professor, I¡¦m terribly sorry about what happened at breakfast. And for the trouble of ¡V of bringing my things here...¡¨ He broke off at Drakul¡¦s dismissive wave of her hand.  
  
¡§It is all right, Neville. I understand about the forgetfulness and the clumsiness.¡¨ Professor Drakul got up from her desk, and retrieved a box from a cupboard. ¡§These are your schoolbooks, I believe, Neville. Now go on to Transfiguration.¡¨ Neville took the box, and whispered his thanks.  
  
The professor only held open the door for him. As he gingerly made his way out of the room, he heard Drakul chuckle. It was low and deep as well as soft and gentle. He turned to face her, puzzlement written all over his round face.  
  
¡§If you were not so... careful, Neville, I¡¦d dare say you wouldn¡¦t be as awkward as you are. Walk with confidence, boy.¡¨ Drakul nodded at him then closed the classroom door.  
  
¡§Hey, Neville!¡¨ Neville turned to his classmate, with a slightly dumbfounded look on his face. ¡§Neville... you all right there, mate?¡¨ The boy nodded, and quickly went to class, following his classmate.  
  
*  
  
Snape was in a foul mood today. Not only did the Ravenclaw Fourth years whisper in awe about the new, ¡¥amazing¡¦ teacher, but none of them picked up -any- of the hints he dropped during the lesson.  
  
¡§You clodpoles wouldn¡¦t know the difference between holy water and normal water if it bit you between the eyes!¡¨ he snatched the bottle away from the astounded student. ¡§If you go ask your -precious- Professor Dracula, perhaps she would tell you!¡¨  
  
If the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs noticed the ¡¥slip,¡¦ they didn¡¦t look surprised, but bent over their cauldrons in earnest, and worked in silence.  
  
Snape spent the double period prowling among smoking cauldrons and very, very nervous students.  
  
It was a disgrace, these students. None knew anything. He hadn¡¦t spent his entire life devoted to the art of potions to see the incompetent students make a joke out of it. He should have quit long ago.  
  
*  
  
Harry and friends were enjoying the second supper of the year, when he was tapped on the shoulder. He saw Justin Finch-Fletchley, a curly-haired Hufflepuff who was also Quidditch captain.  
  
¡§Hullo, hullo all,¡¨ he said brightly. ¡§Harry, I have a message from Drakul. She said to meet her in the Defense classroom after dinner. Got that? Right then, I¡¦ll tell Morag, then Malfoy. I¡¦ll be seeing you then!¡¨ he smiled happily and waved. He had hardly taken time to draw a breath, but plunged through the sentences.  
  
¡§I wonder what¡¦s -that- about?¡¨ Hermione muttered, darkly stabbing at the greens she had just picked.  
  
¡§Quidditch captains have to meet the referee at some point, I suppose, and this being Drakul¡¦s first year.¡¨ Harry grinned at Ron, who grinned back. Hermione still didn¡¦t look happy. ¡§Oh, come off, it, Hermione. Drakul¡¦s not that bad. I¡¦d rather have her than... Lockhart.¡¨  
  
¡§It¡¦s a funny name, you know. Drakul.¡¨ Ron said flippantly. He caught Hermione¡¦s thoughtful look. ¡§Oh, come off it, Hermione. She¡¦s not Dracula or anything. She¡¦s not going to eat the teachers... though Snape... oh, now there¡¦s a thought.¡¨  
  
¡§What did you say Ron?¡¨ Hermione spoke for the second time during that meal. She looked strange.  
  
Ron looked taken back. ¡§Well, I didn¡¦t -mean- it... I only said I hope she¡¦d eat Snape or something. But I was only joking.¡¨ Ron twisted in his chair uncomfortably.  
  
¡§No, before that. Who did you say she was?¡¨  
  
¡§Oh. Her name Drakul. I just thought it was strange, like Dracula or something. Hey! Hey, where are you going?¡¨ Harry and Ron both twisted in their seats, in time to hear her shout.  
  
¡§Library!¡¨  
  
¡§I wonder what set her off?¡¨ Ron frowned. ¡§Was it something I said?¡¨  
  
¡§Dunno. I¡¦m going to go to Drakul¡¦s meeting. I¡¦ll see you upstairs.  
  
¡§Will do.¡¨ Ron grinned. ¡§You know, it¡¦s strange, how Hermione¡¦s acting. Reckon we... surprise her somewhat later on?¡¨  
  
Harry shook his head. ¡§She¡¦ll probably take points off,¡¨ he said dismissively. ¡§Right then, I¡¦m off.  
  
  
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling. Well... almost everything. 


	4. Lessons in the Night

[A/N: I'll have to thank Dynast's Girl for giving me the sort of inspiration for the quote before the chapter. Thank you!]  
  
  
  
"No!" Hermione screamed. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too - **he's a werewolf!"  
--Hermione Granger, Prisoner of Azkaban  
  
  
Chapter 3 - Lessons in the Night  
  
"Good evening, Harry. You are early." Drakul looked up from her book, and gestured for him to sit. "Are the others coming soon?"  
  
"I'm not sure... I mean, we don't exactly..."  
  
"It's all right, Harry. I believe I understand." Drakul bent over the book again. Five minutes later, Justin and Morag came in. Drakul nodded at them, and went back to the dusty tome in front of her.  
  
"Hey, Potter," Morag MacDougal whispered, sitting next to Harry. "Ready for Quidditch?" Morag's whispers hardly disturbed the room. It was strange that he should think to whisper, but Drakul was indeed studying - what, Harry didn't know - and Harry supposed all Ravenclaws had a respect for studying, and remained quiet, as long as someone was studying.  
  
Harry grinned. "There's no telling, MacDougal," he whispered back.  
  
"How was your summer?" Justin asked Morag amiably.  
  
"I saw Krum in Diagon," Morag offered.  
  
Justin grinned slyly (something you wouldn't see on most Hufflepuffs, Harry thought absently, trying to stave off boredom). "I saw Krum at Hogwarts."  
  
"We all did."  
  
Harry glanced at his watch, and wondered why Drakul hadn't sent someone to fetch the Slytherin bugger. Drakul was still reading her book, her chin supported by her right arm. She was absentmindedly tapping one fingernail against her cheek.  
  
Typical of Malfoy, to be late for a meeting, Harry thought sourly. A loud snap from Drakul's book made the three of them look up.  
  
"You may come in now, Mr. Malfoy," Drakul spoke to the door, startling the four Quidditch captains. But the door did indeed open, revealing Draco Malfoy, Git-of-the-Century.  
  
"All right... as we are all here, there are a few things I need to discuss with the captains. First, is the change in referees... I will be refereeing the games, and will most likely oversee the... trials for the positions, if you will. Or, Professor Snape will oversee them."  
  
"What, you?" Malfoy blurted out loudly, surprising everyone, especially himself.  
  
"Yes, Draco Malfoy. I shall be the referee. Madam Hooch will not be available for your Inter House Quidditch games." Drakul brushed her hair aside, and leaned back in her chair. "Any more questions?" No one had any more. Malfoy resumed sulking in the back. Silently. Harry wondered if he was sick. He certainly would not be that silent normally.  
  
"Good. Next, we... Professor Snape and I ... need the empty spots on your teams, so we can keep an eye out for new recruits during flying lessons. Actually, you can give them to Professor Snape... he will be teaching the lessons.  
  
"I'm sure you know how the Quidditch pitch can be booked, and where you can find the game postings. The games will be starting next month..." Drakul paused for a moment before continuing. "I have been to the storeroom today, and found some of the school brooms wanting for training or playing in the games. I am surprised no one has fallen off the brooms yet. The alignments in some of them are quite atrocious. I am sure you felt that way when you have used them before."  
  
"But what do you want us to do?" Morag asked. Malfoy was again uncharacteristically silent.  
  
"Nothing. I only want your opinions. What kind of brooms should be used?" There was silence. Drakul sighed. "I must admit, I do not follow the new models as I had used to. The newest line is the Nimbus, I believe?"  
  
Harry's mouth dropped open. Drakul didn't follow the... and she said she played Quidditch! A babble broke out, the three boys shooting advice and suggestions at the same time. Malfoy didn't say anything.  
  
Drakul nodded slowly, taking this all in. She didn't seem to be bothered by the consistent flow of information.  
  
"All right, thank you, gentlemen. I shall put in a word to Professors Dumbledore and Snape. You may -" In the middle of her dismissal, the door burst open.  
  
Hermione dragged in Ron. They were both looking flushed, scared and carrying books. "Good evening, Hermione, Ron. What brings you here today?" Drakul greeted. She made to stand, but Hermione's wand was pointed at her in a flash.  
  
"Don't move. We know who you are," she hissed. "Sit down, or what's left of you will end up on Filch's feather duster."  
  
Drakul sat. "Very well. Interesting threat."  
  
"Granger, what are you doing?" Malfoy drawled, quite surprising the other Quidditch captains and the Head Girl, not to mention her best friend.  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy!" Hermione said shrilly. "I am saving your pale..." she seemed at lost for words for him, so she turned back to Drakul. Ron smothered a snigger. "How did you convince Dumbledore to let you teach? How many students have you killed?"  
  
"Ron, what's she talking about?" Harry whispered nervously.  
  
"What is this?" Morag stood angrily. "I want an explanation."  
  
"She's a vampire."  
  
Silence. Hermione's statement was met by total silence. No one spoke for a moment. Drakul's gaze was sweeping the classroom, from Malfoy's bored face to Ron's fearful one, and Morag MacDougal's skeptical face. She saw Hermione's steady hand and hateful glare.  
  
Drakul stood up abruptly, and the reaction was immediate. Hermione screeched a spell that hit Drakul in the chest, knocking her back into the wall behind her. All of them watched in horror, as Drakul clutched at where the spell had hit her. She gasped for breath.  
  
"I thought you said it would kill her!" Ron whispered worriedly to Hermione. He had his want out too.  
  
"No." All eyes riveted from the Head Girl to the Defense Against Dark Arts professor. She was still out of breath, but continued. "Congratulations, Head Girl. Mad-Eye Moody could not best that, and he has tried... heavens yes."  
  
Hermione ignored that remark. "What do you mean no? That's the... that's the spell!"  
  
Malfoy winced. "Lower that tone, Granger, my eardrums are about to rupture."  
  
"Hush, Draco." Drakul sat down again. "I mean no. That would not kill me. It would take more than a seventeen-year-old witch and a spell. Though, that was quite a spell. What I am saying is... I cannot be killed very easily." Drakul sighed. "This is not the time for a lesson, but you will have no less, I suppose."  
  
"May I leave now?" Malfoy spoke up, from the back. "I've heard this before... Arachne?" Ron's mouth dropped. Malfoy noticed, and sneered. "No anyone can treat a Nosferatu like that, Weasley, especially not a Mu -"  
  
"That is enough, Draco," Drakul spoke sharply at Malfoy, who shut up immediately. She looked at him, as if expecting something. Harry noticed Malfoy's cheeks were turning pink.  
  
"No here," he hissed.  
"Draco Malfoy... have you forgotten what you father has taught you?" There was a definite blush in Malfoy's cheeks. "You know who I am, Draco."  
  
"Arachne Targoviste Drakul, may I leave now... please." If it was possible, Ron's mouth dropped further. A Malfoy, polite? Merlin, that was rarer than raining Galleons... real ones, mind, not the leprechaun kinds.  
  
Drakul smiled for the first time in their presence. "Of course, Draco, good night."  
  
Everyone was even more surprised when Malfoy approached the vampire, and kissed her on the cheek, and made for the door. Ron dropped his wand when Malfoy bowed to Drakul at the door. Drakul nodded once at him.  
  
Before he walked out, however, Malfoy turned, and glared at the rest of the Seventh Years gathered there. "If any of you breathe a word of this, I will personally -"  
  
"Draco..." Drakul waved him out. "Not another word." Malfoy looked murderous, but left the room. Drakul looked back to Ron, who was still looking shocked beyond words.  
  
"Draco Malfoy is my cousin... many, many times removed. Once in a while, my presence is expected at the Malfoy manor." Drakul sighed. "The Malfoys were not always a bad lot... but enough about the Malfoys. I expect you want to know more about me."  
  
"Who are you?" Morag asked.  
  
"Do you want my name or my history, Morag?" Drakul smiled. "I had better start from the beginning... you two had better sit down," she spoke to Ron and Hermione. Ron flopped down next to Harry, while Hermione grudgingly - and suspiciously - sat down.  
  
"My name is Arachne Targoviste Drakul of Wallachia. Or rather, Princess of Wallachia now, but it is no longer a country... daughter of Vlad Dracula, sister to Mihnea Dracula. I am... as Draco said, Nosferatu. It is one of the names for the oldest kinds of vampires in the world. I was a witch, before I Changed. My whole family had magic, but they were in no way vampires. Ironic, isn't it? Now where to? I've told you about me. What else is there?"  
  
"Your family. These books do not tell much about them," Hermione whispered.  
  
Drakul nodded. "Yes, my family. What a horror.  
  
"I lived in Wallachia... what's now part of Romania. I was named for Targoviste, our capital. My grandfather was Vlad Dracul, the 'devil.' He killed on a massive scale... warred against the Roman Empire -and- the Turkish people. He bit off more than he could chew. The Turks caught up with him, and made him swear allegiance. He gave his two sons, Dracula (my father) and Radu (my uncle). But as soon as he was out of the Turks' reach, Dracul took up arms against the Turks again. My father was much angered. His view of mankind turned twisted... but he did escape the Turks and went back to Wallachia. He took Radu with him, by the way.  
  
"When Dracul died, my father became Prince of Wallachia and did many gruesome things. I shall not go into this, but he killed both Romans and Turks, and did not care of the race, religion or culture. He was beheaded, as my grandfather, uncles (Radu escaped this fate, but he did die; I was there) and brother did. There is my family."  
  
"That didn't happen seven hundred years ago." Hermione whispered. She looked positively horrified.  
  
Drakul laughed. Entranced they stared at her teeth. Perfectly white, straight but... fangs. "That is why I do not smile," Drakul grinned at them. "It is too obvious. But you are right, Hermione. This happened around five to six thousand years ago. I am not sure why the books never got the year correct..." Drakul looked thoughtful. "Or was it because I did not know? What else is there?"  
  
"How did it happen?" Justin Finch-Fletchley asked.  
  
"Oh. That. Of course." Drakul looked at Hermione. "May I see that book, Hermione?"  
  
Hermione slowly got up, and suspiciously eyed Drakul, but placed the book on the vampire's desk. "Thank you. And I promise I won't bite." The students blanched at her words. Drakul only opened the thick book on vampires, and flipped through it.  
  
"Ah. All right. Here he is. This book calls him Hades, and Hades he shall be known to you."  
  
"Who's Hades?" Harry asked.  
  
"He's the Viesczy. My maker," she added, at the look on their faces. "Hades was not much older than I. He was from my country... his family was among those my father killed. Vlad Dracula had just been beheaded, along with all his brothers, and his son, except for Radu. He had a disease, and his condition had worsened that day, giving us that one chance to escape, so we did. I was trying to nurse him back to health in some shack in the countryside. We were wanted by the people of Wallachia. Prices on our heads, you could say. If we were caught, we would have been taken back to Targoviste and burnt, for trying to evade capture.  
  
"Radu would not live the night, and I realized the family would die out if I did not leave. Do not mistake me. I loathed the name I bore and the cruelness in which ran through my family, but family was something no one threw aside. It was not as free as it is now.  
  
"But... I stayed with Radu. He was the only family I had left... the only close relative, actually. I had others, but could not go to them, in fear of placing their necks on the block, so to say. I was certain that someone would find us and... but I stayed, and was determined to bury my uncle, even if it cost my life.  
  
"Just after dark or so, someone did find us... only he wasn't... bloodthirsty would be the incorrect word. But my point is, he did not want the people of Wallachia witnessing what he had in store for the rest of us. He was after personal revenge.  
  
"I think he wanted us to die as painfully as he could make it. Quite in my father's league he was. By Changing me, I could suffer, but would always heal just in time for the next round of whatever he had planned next." The Seventh Years saw Drakul shift uncomfortably in her chair, as if talking of this made her relive everything, though it was thousands of years ago, and that no proof remained on her smooth skin.  
  
"So he made you into what you are?"  
  
"Well, he made me into a vampire, if that is what you are saying. He made it as painful as possible, I can assure you. If you are familiar with vampire lore, you would know that vampires are creatures of seduction and all the sinful examples in between." Drakul smiled at the expression of disgust on Hermione's face. "I suppose that is true... I have never really been bitten that way... there is something in a vampire's mind that can numb the pain, or bring ecstasy. And pain... do you lot want to hear this?" Drakul was persuaded by the vigorous nods the teens gave her.  
  
"What did he do to you?" Hermione asked quietly.  
  
Drakul sighed. "I'm actually not very sure exactly what, but he inflicted as much pain as he could. I was Changed that night, right after Radu died, so in a matter of speaking, my whole family was swiped off this world." Drakul wasn't speaking to -them- now. they didn't exist to her now. she was speaking to herself. Her manner was not of one as teacher to student; but a one-sided conversation.  
  
"I think Hades wanted that to symbolize something... either that evil was vanquished, or that someone was here to pay for the sins. I paid for the Dracula family's sins. I was the only one who did. Radu was too far gone, so Hades left him to die on his own, as he had me die his way.  
  
"He pulled it out as far as he could, making the pain and death last as long as it could. He made sure I knew whom his relations were, and what was done to them, and why he was doing this to me. I have often wondered if he had gotten himself Changed for this very purpose. I did not exactly wait to find out. But all in all... I believe I was with him for nearly ten years. A decade..." Drakul trailed off, lost in her own thoughts. She looked nearly human like that. Nearly.  
  
Her skin was as pale as ever. Hermione suspected a potion, making her skin darken so it would not frighten students. They all sat, lost in their thoughts. Each was thinking of the tale Drakul had told.  
  
"Professor..." Hermione asked hesitantly, not wishing to disturb the vampire, but the need to know was pulling at her.  
  
"Yes, Hermione?" Drakul turned to the bushy-haired bookworm.  
  
"Before... you told us you couldn't be killed easily, then you told us Mad-Eye Moody couldn't -" Hermione bit her lip, but continued. "Why couldn't the spell kill you?"  
  
"Oh. One of the Dark Arts lessons." Drakul smiled. "Do you remember what I said about resistance against spells and such? You will learn about it tomorrow," she assured the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. "I was not a strong vampire when I started out. I was given the barest amount of blood, so I could live the undead life. But I believe that a decade spent with my Maker strengthened me somewhat. I could tolerate great doses of pain, and ignore the usual vampire protection... crosses, churches, that such. Even the sun. Though, the sun has always been my greatest enemy. But... look." Drakul got up, and opened the cupboard behind her desk. She brought a bag down, and spilt the contents onto the desk.  
  
"Come closer," she beckoned the students closer. Justin was the first to get over the suspicion of being bitten. Morag was next, followed by Harry and Ron. Hermione was last to come up to the desk, but soon forgot all, for this was a teacher, and this was a lesson.  
  
The desk was now cluttered with many items a vampire would have been deathly afraid of, but Drakul seemed to treat them as she would any quill or textbook.  
  
"Cross, garlic, stake, Bible... this funny little thing I have never figured out... holy water, rosary, mirror... don't know what that is here for... the whole works. If I had a priest, I would have thrown it in to." Drakul smiled wryly.  
  
"You can... hold these?" Harry picked up the cross from Drakul's desk, turning it over and over in his hand.  
  
"Oh, yes. I'm one of the true immortals in this world now, I think. There are not many who could live to become a nosferatu. They tire of life, and end up in the Gobi desert somewhere... pity really. Or not." Drakul shrugged her shoulders.  
  
"Catch." Harry threw the cross at the Defense Against Dark Arts teacher. She grinned, and caught it.  
  
"Nice throw, Harry." Drakul looked at the cross. "I suppose you would not be satisfied without proof. You see, nothing is impossible. What is it, Head Girl?"  
  
"Were you ever... evil?"  
  
"Oh. That. Well... I am the 'daughter of the Devil,' if that is what you mean. Drakul was never a favored name," Drakul told them dryly.  
  
"No. Not your name. You and your family. Did you..." Hermione was at loss for words.  
  
"Participate." Ron filled the blank.  
  
"You mean the 'lop off the peasants' heads game?' No, I did not." Drakul's expression was hard to tell, but she did not start reprimanding them either.  
  
"So you 'paid for the Dracula family's sins,' when you yourself was not involved? Why didn't you tell this... Hades? Why did you take this punishment without complaint or a word? Ten years of torture." Drakul was silent for a moment.  
  
When she spoke, it surprised them all to no end. "Alastor Moody tried to kill me with that same spell of years and years ago, when there was not a Dark Lord to face. His spell could not rival yours, Hermione." There was a dismissal in the statement and the students realized it was later than it seemed. They reluctantly left the desk area, and started towards the door. Justin and Morag went together, whispering fiercely as they went.  
  
Drakul's voice stopped Hermione, Harry and Ron, when they had reached the door.  
  
"You would make a wonderful vampire hunter, Miss Granger. But... you must get their story before you make an end of them. Goodnight."  
  
*  
  
Arachne looked over the lake, watching the moon's reflection ripple. The moon would probably be as close as she would ever get to seeing the sun's rays with her own eyes. A pity, really. But it has been so long, she had gotten used to living without the sun. Or rather, living in fear of the sun. Maybe it was awe, but whatever it was, the fact remained that she lived the night.  
  
Telling her story had reminded her of what she was, and who her demons were. Living with them hadn't been pleasant, so she had quashed them down. Hades, Wallachia... Vlad Dracula... they were stories told by Malfoy elders to scare the younger ones. The Draculas had indeed been wiped from existence... save for a very select few.  
  
Arachne was unwilling to let go of her past, and went back to Targoviste after her Changing, to seek out the scattered few relations. She would often visit each generation, seldom skipping a person. They were like a gateway back to her old life... a gateway back to magic, it seemed, so she made sure most relatives lived, knowing whom she was. No normal wizard would accept her as what she was, so she was forced to live among Muggles.  
  
At first, it was starvation and madness, for she could not kill. So she was resorted to biting herself, and drinking her own blood to satisfy the thirst. It was a horrible time, but it did bring the halt of bloodlust very soon, which did not happen until two or three millennia had passed. She had stopped feeling the thirst when she turned thirty. Now, a sip from the wrist or a blood lollipop from sweetshops every once in a while would appease her.  
  
She had never killed a human being before. Never. Not even those pesky Vampire Hunters or Aurors. As a young child, she had often been forced to accompany her father through his 'Garden of Death.' The rows upon row of rotting corpses was enough to scare a five-year-old witless, and that was pushing aside the 'meals' Dracula made her attend. He wined and dined beside his beloved garden, listening to his victim's screams as if they were the songs of birds, and drinking their blood as if it was the sweetest wine.  
  
The pain... the deaths, the screams... nothing could ever force her to take another's life after that. A pathetic excuse for a vampire, no? That's what most of her kind thought if they even think of her name. A nosferatu who has never taken a life? A daughter of Vlad Dracula who could not stand the sight of blood? But look how far it had taken her. Just how far. Centuries passed, and she remained herself. She had remained sane and guiltless. It was always guilt that broke them. Even the strongest of them. The people they slaughter came back to haunt them. And into the Gobi they went.  
  
But the ones who could kill and never feel a thing... those were the ones to watch out for. Like her father... like Hades.  
  
*  
  
Snape watched the dark figure sitting by the lake. He was up at the castle, prowling among the suits of amour and dust, until he took a glance outside, and spotting someone outside. It was she, the damned creature.  
  
A true creature of the night, he thought sourly. She was sitting there as if she had every right to sit there and enjoy human pleasures. As if it was perfectly normal for someone like that to teach at Hogwarts. The werewolf was bad enough; at least there was a potion for him to take. But mistakes did happen... people forget to take what was good for them... thank goodness Remus Lupin got sacked (no matter what he said about resigning, he was as good as sacked) when he did. But that was in the past. If the vampire made a mistake... perhaps turning on one of the students - preferably Potter - then resigning. Hopefully before Christmas.  
  
The Potions Master watched the still form for a while longer before turning away from the window. Let -her- wander the nights. He will lock his door securely tonight, and the rest of the nights.  
  
  
Disclaimer: Most things belong to JK Rowling... thank you for letting us borrow your characters (can we keep them, please, please, please?) 


	5. Sun, Cross, Stake in the Heart

[A/N: Ha, Dynast's Girl, Snape getting over vampires? Nah, you're right. He's just a bitter, distorted man. At least Hermione... not telling yet. Thanks for reviewing!]  
  
  
Chapter Four - Sun, cross, Stake in the Heart  
  
The next day arrived, along with whispers about Professor Drakul being a vampire. Before classes started, Hermione questioned the Captains (with Draco Malfoy as the exception) severely, and found none had dared to gossip about last night's bedtime story, which frustrated Hermione even more.  
  
"Malfoy couldn't have, if she asked him not to. Family pride and all¡K" Hermione whispered to Ron during one of Snape's lectures.  
  
Ron only shrugged, and tried to keep up with Snape's talk of Mandrakes in the Mandrake Restorative Draught.  
  
"You shall be brewing the draught as soon as the Mandrakes are ready. In that case, I suggest you to work on some Potions skills." Snape hinted at Neville, who looked ready to beg for mercy.  
  
"I'm willing to bet that a Third Year bookworm saw her picture in 'Vampire of the Millennia,' and showed it to someone else," Harry murmured to Hermione.  
  
"I saw her in Third Year too. 'Nosferatu Biographies.'"  
  
"As interesting as vampires may be," Snape's silky voice was heard from across the room, making them jump in surprise. "You are not welcome to talk of them - especially the one upstairs - in -my- classroom." Snape bore down on Parvati and Lavender. "Twenty points from Gryffindor."  
  
Ron leaned down, supposedly to get something, but whispered to Hermione, "Maybe it was him. Snape." Hermione thought of it for a moment, but was forced to push it aside when Snape started to talk again.  
  
*  
  
"It's Peeves. It's not Snape. Or anyone else." Ron slid into the seat beside Harry.  
  
"What did Peeves do this time?" Hermione asked. Ron's comment had surprised her and confused her, especially at the beginning of Charms.  
  
"For someone who can write a twenty-foot essay on Switching Spells, that was a very thick-headed question. I'm talking about Drakul. Peeves has been spreading the rumor. Vampires¡K" Ron glanced around him.  
  
"How did you find out?" Harry asked curiously.  
  
Ron glanced around again before answering. "I asked Ginny to¡K ask around. It turns out Peeves was singing about her last night, after supper. People heard, and¡K it spread."  
  
Hermione shrugged, as Professor Flitwick came into the classroom. "We'll worry about it later. Shh."  
  
*  
  
"Look out, girls and boys, better put away those toys. Get out your mirrors and stakes, and do whatever it takes." Peeves was joyfully dancing on the Slytherin table, bawling out his song and doing a jig to go along with it. "A flood of blood, the blood with flood, if you keep your necks up high. For here comes Drakul, don't you dare sight!" There was complete silence from the eating students, and threats from teachers and ghosts alike. "If you don't know what Drakul is called, then knock your head on the concrete walls! Vampires, vampires, vampires galore, can you ask for anything more?" Those that didn't yet know what Drakul was now knew what she was, thanks to Peeves' rhyming scheme. "Sun, cross, stake in the heart, please don't make this into an art. Holy water, garlic strings, then throw in anything else that stings." Peeves was nearing the end of his little ditty, so he gave everything he had. Harry was sure Trelawney could hear, up in the North Tower. "Forward and back, will se ever get saaa-aa-aacked?" There was applause at the end - Peeves' own clapping hands, and one or two Slytherins.  
  
Other than that, the Great Hall was silenced. Even the teachers had stopped yelling. Just then, there was a deafening bang at the other end of the Hall. For one moment, Harry thought someone had set off a firecracker. Every being turned to the doors. It was flung open by the clapping vampire at the threshold.  
  
"Bravo, Poltergeist. Bravo," the vampire called, slowly walking towards the frozen little man in a bell-covered hat and bright purple bow tie. "A little immature, but it did get the point across brilliantly, did it?" It took Harry a few more moments to identify that voice. It was Drakul.  
  
But how different she looked. Her skin was as white as bleached bone, and her hair was not in its usual ponytail, but fanned out behind her. Instead of the black robes, she had a black velvet dress that clung to her figure with white ruffles at her throat and wrists. She also had a blood-red cape sweeping the floor. She had replaced her dark glasses with smaller, lightly tinted glasses. Drakul looked every bit a vampire, and was every bit frightening too. Her voice was heard everywhere in the Great Hall.  
  
Poltergeist, heed my words. If you should ever disturb the peace, then you shall feel my wrath. Be gone now." Drakul waved her hand regally at him.  
  
"My apologies, Lady, my -"  
  
"I do not wish to hear any more. Be gone from my sight." She turned her back to him, so she would not see him zoom out of the Hall. She gave the students another sweeping glance, then strode out of the Great Hall, her cape billowing around her. The doors closed themselves after her.  
  
Once the doors were closed firmly, the Great Hall burst out in excited whispers. A vampire, teaching at Hogwarts? Defense against Dark Arts, no less.  
  
"She's not going to have an easy time after this," Ron predicted. "Parent will find out, and you know how they reacted to Lupin.  
  
Hermione agreed. "But remember what she said about werewolves?"  
  
"Oh, and you really listened, instead of thinking up snide comments?" Harry teased. Hermione ignored Harry, and went on talking.  
  
"She said they were part human and part wolf, damned for all eternity."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Well, isn't it funny how she's almost exactly like that?"  
  
"Perhaps. Who cares, Hermione? She's a vampire."  
  
"I'm sure you enjoy that display of vampirism," she sniffed at him. Harry smothered a snigger as Ron's ears turned pink, while he muttered about undead people not making good¡K ahem.  
  
  
Disclaimer: Not everything belongs to me, so please watch where you point your fingers!! ;-) 


	6. Of Letters and Family Pride

[A/N: hey, hey, DG and other. I'm so sorry for not having time to update. School's started, and arg, I hate science. :-( Anyways, you like Drakul, eh? I do too. :-D Here's a longer chapter, to make up for all the days I could've updated. I hate writing V- I mean, have fun!]  
  
  
  
Chapter Five - Of letters and family pride  
  
  
Things had indeed turned out as Ron said. Howlers had arrived by the dozens at breakfast and exploded, for Drakul was not there to open them, and Dumbledore was not there either. Fires erupted at the Head Table daily for a week, until McGonagall had the Howlers sent directly to Drakul's quarters.  
  
No one knew how she dealt with them, but a pair of Fourth Years reported that there was no sound from within the chamber, nor smoke coming from under the door. After a few days, students got letters from parents saying Drakul had sent all the hate mail, curse letters and Howlers back to the sender.  
  
There wasn't another Howler for Drakul after that, though Dumbledore was bombarded with letters from parents about withdrawing students from the school if Drakul was not sacked. But Drakul remained on the staff.  
  
Among the students was another matter. Hermione noticed a scramble for crosses, garlic and holy water. They didn't know any better. She asked Drakul about all this nonsense and why she did not put a stop to this madness. Drakul only shrugged, and told her that adults had to have their fun and complain, so the children could go on with their games.  
  
Drakul didn't bother hiding her pale skin anymore, and kept it naturally white. She kept her glasses on, she told Hermione, because of the hypnosis her eyes created for humans. The power had grown so that it was hard to control, and it was frightening for humans that were caught under her power.  
  
Hermione often spent evenings with the professor, either doing homework or chatting with her. She found evening s spent in the Common Room or library was distracting. In the professor's office, there was only a faint rustle of papers, or the quiet discussion of magic.  
  
Harry and Ron sometimes joined them, when they were not in the Quidditch pitch. Then talk would turn naturally to Quidditch. They still couldn't get over the fact that she had watched the first Quidditch game kick off in France.  
  
"You do tend to see things when you've lived for so long," she told them dryly.  
  
She told them of moving among Muggle cities, and the founding of Hogwarts. Hermione was most interested in this, and historical events.  
  
They avoided talking of Drakul's childhood or her early life as a vampire. It was too complicated and delicate to talk about, but they often wondered silently about it. Drakul was an excellent source of information, though. Her mind seemed to have processed, and filed all the information, and saved it. It was eerie, but helpful.  
  
Students in her classes did not dare hand in homework themselves, but often bullied someone into taking it to her desk with a crucifix clutched in one hand. Once, Drakul had entered her classrooms, and found the shutters were wide open, letting the sunlight pour in. To the Second Years' disappointment, she did not shrivel up into a lump of charred vampire flesh, but walked right up to the window and closed it. And still she did not correct them.  
  
Hermione tried several times, taking points off for displaying stakes or garlic strings. But Snape took off points for not having crucifixes around their necks. Students now avoided the dungeons more than ever, and the third floor.  
  
Neville, surprisingly, did not have strings of garlic wrapped around his neck, or holy water hidden under his sleeve like most students, but often wandered into their evening sessions. He would also stay behind some nights, and talk with Drakul privately. The school was a complete mystery recently.  
  
  
One night, they came to the room, stopping short when they saw Malfoy talking with Drakul. He stopped abruptly when he saw them. Pausing only to sneer his acknowledgement, he murmured to Drakul again, then pressed a letter into her hand, before pressing his lips to the back of it. The three moved closer, trying to hear what was said.  
  
"Thank you, Draco. I will see to this," Drakul said softly. "Go back to your Common Room, then. Good even, Hermione¡K boys."  
  
Malfoy took his leave, hurrying out and not pausing to throw more insults at them. He was acting odder than Neville, and that was probably saying something.  
  
"Draco has just been through much family problems. His father is¡K pressuring him. I hope you three will not go out of your way to stir up trouble for him." Drakul raised her eyebrow at them.  
  
"Of course not, Professor," Hermione spoke for them all.  
  
"Good. Because I would hate to see the boy more upset then he already is." Harry almost burst with surpressed laughter, but he quickly smothered it when Drakul turned to him.  
  
"Oh, yes, Professor," Hermione cut in. "We are writing an essay on the stars¡K and was wondering if you could help¡K"  
  
*  
  
Arachne sighed at the letter on her desk. The Terrible Three were gone, and the door was locked. Draco had seemed desperate when he had walked into the classroom. He was somewhat calmed now, and there was only this letter from father to son, which lay sealed with the Malfoy dragon. Draco did not open his letter, but handed it straight to his vampiric cousin, and laid his situation before her. She vowed to help him.  
  
Sighing again, Arachne reached for the letter, and broke the seal. It was a short letter. But what was inside would have terrified to seventeen-year-old half to death.  
  
Draco. The time has come for you to serve our lord as I have done before you. I shall be waiting for the day you make me a proud father. There shall be no more in a letter. You know what I speak of, and when. Do not disappoint me again. You mother sends her regards. L.M.  
  
Arachne took up her quill, and reached into her desk for a bottle of ink she never used, unless it was absolutely necessary for her to call upon her status as vampire, and the unofficial head of the Malfoy family.  
  
Lucius, there are some matters that have been called to my attention recently that should not have. The Malfoys are a proud descendent of the Draculas, dating back long before I was brought into this world. We hold in family pride, loyalty and above all, magic.  
  
But, my dear Lucius, I see not the words 'Dark Lord' in that list. It seems you have pledged loyalty to Riddle. I am disappointed, Lucius. It is my duty as High Nosferatu and as the eldest in my line - and yours - to make sure this does not happen again.  
  
I will not force you to stop from Riddle, knowing the consequences, but I will absolutely forbid Draco to join Riddle and his minions, further darkening the Malfoy name - and the Draculas.  
  
He will remain with me during the Christmas break. I have found great potential for him, and wish for him to meet my kindred. Do not try to force him to join with this petty Dark Lord. If he would be joining anyone, it would be us.  
  
Arachne signed the letter, and waited for the ink¡K or rather, blood to dry. She stood, and opened the window shutters to gaze into the dark world. It was horrible, how Lucius Malfoy wanted his son to follow his footsteps. Arachne cared little of the family pride she spoke of in the letter on her desk, but more of the young cousin in this school.  
  
She was pleased that Draco had finally refused to give into his father. It was about time someone did. She was more concerned about the boy than the wrath of Riddle or Lucius Malfoy. He was likely to turn his back on her protection, and join them anyway. Poor boy. But she was determined not to let this happen. After all, blood was blood, and she knew more about blood than any other.  
  
Arachne bent over her desk, and folded the letter carefully and deliberately, before taking her seal and wax out to the seal the letter. She touched the small arachnid, her personal emblem.  
  
She sighed again, and moved to the fireplace. She considered just owling him the letter, but felt that calling on him would get the point across quicker. Arachne had hoped she would not have to don her vampire regiments, so to speak. But there was no possible way in the Seven Hells of this world she would see Lucius Malfoy with witches' robes. She couldn't burn the damn things even if there was no cousin to visit. A dear friend had given her these clothes, and expected her to wear them.  
  
After a moment, Arachne was by the window, her letter carefully folded into a hidden pocket in her cape. She concentrated, and felt her body melt away, ready to form again at another point. It was similar to a wizard's Dissaparation, but this did not involve magic, so the magic protecting Hogwarts had no use against the vampiric form of Dissaparation.  
  
Older vampires had the ability to banish their Un-dead flesh, and then gather it at another point. Wizards had to use magic to transport themselves. It was like a message traveling through Muggle telephone lines, only these magic lines were invisible, and one hardly knew they were there. They just used them.  
  
Arachne gathered herself in the Malfoy Manor foyer, and shook off the protection spells surrounding the Manor. She glanced around, and strode to the library. Lucius would most likely be there. After all, it was not yet ten. She opened the doors, and saw he was indeed there, studying parchment leaves, looking very much like his son.  
  
The creak of the doors gave her away. "Lucius." He looked up, and caught sight of the vampire, and rose.  
  
"Arachne. What a pleasure to heave you here." He bowed deeply. Arachne returned the bow with a deep nod. "How is Hogwarts?"  
  
"Hogwarts is fine, Lucius. However, I have not come to talk of the school." She stepped closer to the fire, turning her back to him. "I have come to talk of Draco." She felt him tense, his mind closing its walls to her mind. "I do not wish to interrupt your life, Lucius, but I must now."  
  
"Has Draco -" he tried to begin, but she cut him off.  
  
"It is not of that, Lucius." Arachne sat in a green armchair, and waved him over.  
  
"It is about the man that calls himself¡K I have brushed his name aside for the moment, but his emblem is the skull and snake, is it not?"  
  
Lucius winced, at the disrespect the un-dead creature showed for his Lord. "Cousin, it is wise to treat him with more respect than you have. He is -"  
  
"Lucius. I am High Nosferatu. I am immortal. The un-dead do not follow wizards with made-up names. The vampires are more powerful than a magic wand. We do not serve, and by swearing allegiance to Riddle is not wise, nor is it acceptable."  
  
"Lord Voldemort, cousin. What would you have me do? Oppose him and put my entire family at his mercy?" he pleaded with her, but she was unmoved. She stared into the fire.  
  
"You care naught of your family, Lucius. Only your thirst for power."  
  
"Then you judge me wrong. I need something to protect myself with. Give me the Dark Gift, cousin," he urged her, looking nearly desperate. As a child, he used his charms to gain favors for himself. Now as an adult, he was cunning, ruthless, and an idiot. She hated idiots.  
  
"Nay, Lucius. You will use it for your won gain. It is not a gift, but a curse. You shall not have it. Not from my blood, nor from any other, as long as I am on this earth."  
  
Lucius sat brooding for a moment, shielding his thoughts as she had taught him, as a child. He answered her eventually. "Cousin, Lord Voldemort seeks your assistance. His cause is great. I have already asked him to come, and meet you. He will be here soon, and I urge you to help him."  
  
Arachne stood, and stepped away from the hearth. Lucius stood in alarm. If she walked away, he would fail his Lord once more.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"I am going to see Narcissa. I will meet your Dark Lord. There are things I must settle with him." Arachne strode out of the library, and nearly collided with Draco's mother. She was carrying a tray of cups for tea.  
  
"Arachne. How is Draco?" Narcissa greeted her coolly.  
  
"He is doing fine in his studies. And how are you?" she took the tray from the woman.  
  
"I am fine. It does me good to know someone is watching my son in that school, Arachne. He was always withdrawn from other people. I don't like him going to that school, but his father was adamant." She looked sad for a moment, but her face went back to its usual expressionless form. "It was either Hogwarts or Durmstrang, and Hogwarts is closer."  
  
"Draco is a resourceful child. He has found his own crowd to be part of." And to lead.  
  
"I had hoped he would be taken into Ravenclaw, but I suppose Slytherin is best for him."  
  
-Indeed.- Arachne hid a grimace. "Narcissa. I know it would pain you, but it is the best for Draco if he is with me during the Christmas holidays."  
  
"Christmas? But¡K cousin¡K" Narcissa sighed unhappily. "If it is for the best, then very well. Lucius would not like it, and Draco does not like staying at the school.  
  
Arachne smiled, and used her mind to brush back her cape from her shoulders. "I will not keep Draco in the school. He will be with me, traveling the world. And Lucius will agree."  
  
"Very well," she repeated softly.  
  
"I must return to cousin Lucius. Our guest has arrived. It was nice to see you, Narcissa. I shall be back before the year goes out." With the tea tray in her hand, she returned to the library.  
  
Lucius was there, standing in a small huddle of dark cloaks, and whispering among them furiously, but quickly parted when the door creaked.  
  
"Cousin. You've finished your talk with my wife? Very good. Erm, may I present Wormtail, a faithful follower of Lord Voldemort. Wormtail, this is my cousin, Arachne Targoviste Drakul."  
  
"How wonderful," Arachne turned away from Wormtail, barely glancing at the small man. She set the tray down on Lucius' desk.  
  
"Would you like some tea, my lord?" Lucius addressed the shadow in a corner.  
  
"Why don't you introduce me to your charming cousin, Lucius?" Lord Voldemort stepped from the shadows, and into the soft light of the candle. Arachne turned, and regarded him.  
  
"My Lord, this is Princess Arachne Targoviste Drakul of Wallachia. She is my cousin, and she comes from the Dracula lineage. Cousin, may I present Lord Voldemort -"  
  
"Enough, Lucius. I know who the man is," Arachne's voice was sharpened by the disgusting display of formalities, "and I believe he's heard much of your vampiric connections from your boastful mouth." Lucius flushed at her words. Through with embarrassing him, she turned back to Voldemort.  
  
"I suppose I must make the best of the time I have wasted here. There is a matter I must settle."  
  
Voldemort's smile looked plastered on, as Arachne motioned for him to sit in the place where Lucius had sat earlier that evening.  
  
"I trust you have something to say to me?" Arachne folded her hands in her lap, after delicately arranging her cape around her. "You may say it first." She was determined to draw rank, and indeed she did.  
  
"M'lady¡K" he started. Then paused, as if not knowing where to begin. Arachne arched an eyebrow at the address.  
  
"What are you waiting for, Riddle? Get on with it." She saw Lucius wince at each word that came out of her mouth.  
  
Voldemort's face was a wonder to behold, she thought to herself. She wondered if the ugly face had been spoken to so rudely before.  
  
"Erm, cousin," Lucius hastily stepped in for his lord. "Lord Voldemort was discussing the possibility of having the vampires in our ranks¡K" Voldemort seemed to regain his wits at that point, and cut in.  
  
"We understand your loathing of Muggles -"  
  
"You seem not to understand anything, Riddle. You have miscalculated. Without the Muggles, the vampiric form of life will die out. Either that, or we start feeding upon you lot." Arachne grinned, revealing her fangs to prove her point. "We are not in the same boat. In fact, we oppose your ideas. Most of the vampires have Muggle heritage, and some do have family among them. What would they think in destroying what they once were?"  
  
Voldemort was silent, with a contemplating look upon his face. "You cannot possibly speak for all the undead," he said finally.  
  
"I cannot," she agreed. "However, they also know if they oppose me, they will die."  
  
"You have never taken another's life," he sneered at her. Lucius seemed caught between family and allegiance. He looked distressed, but did not intervene.  
  
"But the undead are dead, are they not?" Arachne's smile widened as Voldemort worked it out. "And even -if- someone I wanted away with was alive, I have followers who do not have scruples. Do not try to bring the undead against me, Riddle. I would know. And while I am speaking¡K there is something I must mention. You should listen to this, Lucius.  
  
"I cannot stop Lucius from joining your ranks, because I was¡K away. But it has come to my attention that Draco is in line for this. I will not allow others of this family come to further shame."  
  
"You think you can control all humanity? Order all around you about like puppets on stage?" Voldemort stood, his face livid with anger.  
  
Arachne calmly crossed her legs, and slowly took her tinted glasses off her face. "Lucius' sharp intake of breath could be heard, but all ignored him. Still not looking at him, Arachne spoke, whilst touching her mind with his. "I have spent thousands of years perfecting puppetry until it has more potency than your 'Imperius Curse.' Would you like to see it, Riddle?" Arachne tilted her head, and met his red gaze. Their minds were locked now in a battle of wills. It was not hard to see who possessed more power.  
  
Alarmed, Lucius tried to break the eye contact of his cousin and his lord, but he was frozen as well. After another moment, Voldemort's mind collapsed under the pressure of hers. His legs folded under him, and he sat down heavily into the chair. Lucius was freed, and he too collapsed. Arachne replaced her glasses, and smiled across the distance at Voldemort.  
  
"Even if you escape my agents - which is next to impossible, mind you - there would be no escape, for I would not be killing you. You would be killing yourself. Trust me, I can and I will keep Draco from this." Arachne stood, and addressed Lucius. "Lucius, I am leaving now. If you intend to send Draco mail, send it through me." Arachne pulled the letter she had wrote earlier, and tossed it to Lucius. It was time to leave.  
  
*  
  
Lucius hovered above his lord, anxious. "My Lord, I am terribly sorry about my cousin's behavior. Living for so long must have¡K made her arrogant."  
  
Lord Voldemort waved him into silence. "No, Lucius. It was I who was mistaken." Speechless, Lucius gaped at him. Voldemort continued. "I should have seen how powerful vampires were. I should have become one long ago, when I had the chance."  
  
"You had a chance to become one of the undead, my lord?" Lucius frowned. Who was foolish enough to oppose Arachne Drakul?  
  
"Oh, yes," Voldemort breathed, his eyes distant. "I came upon a vampire long ago. He offered my immortality, but I was foolish enough to throw his offer aside."  
  
"But¡K but my Lord, there has not been another vampire made in centuries. Arachne has efficiently put a stop to that. No one would be fool enough to offer someone the Dark Gift, without her approval. And now¡K it seems as if she finds my son worthy of it." Lucius frowned at the letter in his hand. "Even as a child, he captured her. From the day he was born until he was a full toddler she stayed in this house."  
  
"But I believe you have told me that she stayed with any Malfoy family that has produced a child, especially during their early childhood."  
  
"She does. She was here when I was born. As a child, she taught me how to shield my thoughts against prying minds and such. But to Draco¡K I believe she let him taste her blood. He has always preferred the dark of night after that. He does not like to go outside, unless he needs to."  
  
"Your son is quite remarkable, then. But this other vampire¡K he told me of your cousin. You should have seen him, Lucius. He was as fair as your cousin was dark, and as graceful as she was."  
  
"Did he give you his name, my Lord? Names are powerful allies when it comes to calling their flesh counterparts." Lucius' eyes were lighted with undisguised excitement.  
  
Voldemort frowned, trying to recall the name of the fair vampire. "He did not give me a name, but when he came, I called him Hades."  
  
  
  
Disclaimer: Not everything belongs to me, so please watch where you point your fingers!! ;-) 


	7. Devotion in Dijon

[A/N: A bit more light hearted than my other one... That's ok. Anyway, what I wanted to say was that I hate writing Voldemort scenes. who agrees with me? Well, have fun in this one! :-D]  
  
  
  
Chapter 6 - Devotion in Dijon  
  
  
"Arachne!" Dumbledore called to her, on his way to a meeting. It was the next morning, and the school's vampire was on her way to her first class.  
  
"Yes, Albus?" Arachne turned to the old Headmaster, a smile forced onto her face. Her thoughts were still bent on Voldemort and Lucius.  
  
"I'm terribly sorry for stopping you, but I have a request."  
  
"Please don't tell me you need a new gamekeeper, Albus." Arachne shifted the case in her arms so she could see Dumbledore clearly.  
  
He chuckled. "No, dear friend. Nothing so dramatic. I wanted to take advantage of you here, for the students. One hardly ever sees a vampire, let alone a Nosferatu such as yourself, but I believe the students would¡K connect with someone out of the school, instead of a teacher here."  
  
"Exactly. I shall see to it. I think it would bring vampires out into light, might it not?"  
  
"Precisely. All the students must know that silly superstitions are not correct. Would tonight be too early?"  
  
"Tonight would be perfect. It's clear outside, and it doesn't coincide with the full moon. I'll have someone in front of the school after dark."  
  
"Excellent. Have a good day, Arachne."  
  
"Thank-you, Headmaster." Arachne smiled again, this time a genuine smile.  
  
"Out of curiosity, who are you bringing?"  
  
"Someone who's always wanted to see Hogwarts."  
  
"Not him, Arachne." Dumbledore tried to look stern, but failed.  
  
"He will behave himself, Albus. I promise. It won't be like last time. Besides, the Bloody Baron would be inside. I won't let another one happen, Albus. Actually, he hasn't apologized to him, has he? Well¡K"  
  
"Go to class, Arachne Targoviste. I shall see you later.  
  
*  
  
"I still think Drakul should teach History of Magic," Ron insisted, after another boring class.  
  
"You think Drakul should teach every class!" Hermione snapped.  
  
"We've told you before, Ron, she's much too old for you." Harry grinned at Hermione, who was trying to hide her own smile.  
  
"I'm not -" Ron tried to protest, but Hermione cut in.  
  
"Ron, remember the Fleur fiasco?" she asked sweetly.  
  
Ron stopped in the middle of the corridor. "That was not¡K you're completely missing the point -"  
  
"Me thinks he doth protest too much," Harry said in a sing-song voice.  
  
"You **what?!** What does that mean? Shut up - just shut up, all right?" Ron's face was crimson by now. "I'm going to lunch." He stomped huffily to the Great Hall. Harry and Hermione followed, laughing uncontrollably.  
  
*  
  
Arachne strode through the streets of Dijon, clutching her cloak about her, ignoring the lights of houses and shops and the chatter of people. It was nearly dark here, and very crowded. She turned the corner, and went through an alleyway. It was much quieter here.  
  
She pulled up her hood, and grinned when she heard noises coming from her right. So it was still there. Unknown to the mortals of Dijon and France, vampires often gathered in France - especially during the full moon - and partied with ease, all night long. This was the place she was looking for. It had been long since she came here. After all, the last time she left was in a state of drunken stupor.  
  
Vampires seldom got drunk, but they did get drunk. If one drank enough blood, it had the same effect as alcohol on mortals. For a Nosferatu, it took considerable amounts of blood to get drunk. From what Thanatos told her, she had drunk enough blood to last a young, thirsty vampire a decade.  
  
Arachne sighed, and pushed to door open, ignoring the warning sign in French, German, English, and Greek. There was a smattering of Latin, but whoever wrote that did not know how to speak the dead language. The smell of blood hit her as soon as the door opened, as the noise did. No one took notice of her. To them, the dark figure at the door was only a brother or sister in need of a drink. Times were great and blood a-plenty. None went hungry in beautiful France.  
  
"Join us in drink, sister!" a young vampire shouted, raising his glass high in the air. He did not realize who he was talking to, nor did he seem to care. He threw his arm around her neck, laughing and talking in French.  
  
"Ici ma belle seour!" he slurred, shouting to the crowd. Everyone turned to them, and shouted their approval, without seeing whom he was talking about.  
  
"Nay!" A bellow from the back silenced the vampires. "I know one more beautiful." The voice now had a body. He was tall and old, and stunningly dressed. His thick brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and was shining in the candlelight.  
  
"You lie!" the young one shouted.  
  
"Have you ever seen the last Dracula?" the vampire breathed, slowly advancing to the front. Arachne smiled broadly from under her hood. Such devotion. But as of now, she was forgotten by the youngling.  
  
"Her skin is as pale as the mother moon, and her smile as brilliant as the sun. Have you ever seen such a beauty, youngling?"  
  
The older vampire turned to the rest of the vampires. "She moves as silently as a shadow does, and graceful as water, and as dangerous as death himself. Have -any- of you seen such beauty?   
  
"Ah, little one, 'tis not only her beauty and grace that surpasses all. Her wit, her power, and her wisdom. My heart was entirely hers when I first saw her, a naive young thing. She taught me of beauty, truth, wisdom, and the world. It has been long since I last saw her, but she is everywhere. She is in my blood, but oh, how I long to see her again." He paused, collecting attention and drama like an actor does when the stage was solely his.  
  
Arachne laughed aloud, startling the young one, who had long since let go of her. "Well said, my friend. For your words and devotion, I shall grant you your wish, Thanatos." She drew back her hood, revealing herself.  
  
A shocked silence swept through the tavern, then a cry could have been heard. Once again, everyone's attention was directed to Thanatos.  
  
"Whatever it was, Arachne, it wasn't me!" he wailed, clutching his hair in distress.  
  
  
Disclaimer: Hmmmm... I own quite a lot of nothing, it seems. I guess I'd better make this clear then. A lot of ideas or characters or places are not mine. Nor do I want them to be mind [I'm lying, just ignore me]. Some are mine though, so watch out! :-) ;-) 


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